Happy Father's Day, Jimbo

Growing up, days like Father's Day, Mother's Day, Memorial Day, Veteran's Day all seemed unnecessary. In my narrow little mind I was oftentimes confused. Why is there one specific day to appreciate these people? Shouldn't we be telling them every single day how much we love them and how grateful we are for their presence in our lives? Now granted, my view was a little skewed because, as the youngest of four girls, I grew up in a very affectionate household and have always been quick to give a hug, blurt out a small praise or drop many "I love yous" in quick succession without even realizing it. Despite my upbringing, however, and the fact that I continue to and will always persistently wear my heart on my sleeve, days much like today have begun to take on a deeper meaning for me as I get older. I now understand that, on Father's Day, it's not about just telling Daddy how much I love him- it's about showing the world too. It's about standing up, taking pride in an individual, their uniqueness and their influence on your life. So that it exactly what I plan on doing from here on out.

My parents got married young, though by the standards of the 1980s that wasn't necessarily the case. By the time my mom was my age now (22, for anyone who is interested), she had three children in diapers. That's a terrifying concept in my young and immature mind, and one that is hard for me to fathom. How, exactly, did my parents do it? I'm still not sure I could give anyone a positive answer. By the time my mom was 27 and my dad was 29, I was born and completed our family of six. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, necessary I believe in the case, and my dad, without a college education and backed by so much love for his family, worked diligently day in and day out to put food on the table. Working his way up the ladder in the field of steamfitting, my dad somehow saved up enough money at a time to: a). buy his first home in Delaware County, succeeded 11 years later by our family's second home in Chester County; b). send all of his daughters through Catholic grade school, private Catholic high schools and then through college; c). purchase the home of his and my mom's dreams in Sea Isle City, NJ (after he had successfully rented a home every summer in Sea Isle so my sisters and my mom could spend our entire summers at the shore). Along the way, he started a business with his father and his siblings that began to slowly thrive. Throughout all of the years, as my dad continued to work for his family, I never once heard him complain.

Yes, this is an impressive feat by any standard. I've always had a certain appreciation for the underdogs, the people who start out with nothing and through hard work, commitment and faith somehow find it all. My dad fits this mold for me and despite everything that he has done financially for my family, it is the little things I am finding as I grow up that tend to mean more to me.

My earliest memory of my father comes from a family vacation, I'm not sure what year. My sisters and I were all in Cape May, NJ with our parents for a night of shopping and fun. I can't remember why exactly, but my dad had to go to the car to retrieve something and my sister Bridget and I began fighting over who got to go with him. It's a simple, silly memory but there was something about my dad, even then, that made him so magnetic. It's hard to spend even an hour with my father and not fall in love with the person that he is. He's enthusiastic and hilarious and driven and patient and successful. He's the kind of person that you meet and instantly hope that the best parts of him will somehow appear in you. After all, it takes a special man to grow up in a house with five women, and a female cat, while constantly maintaining a mega-watt smile.

My dad is the most hard-working man I know, but above all, he is a family man. Not only does he love my mother, my sisters and myself so much, but his love shines everywhere he goes. He lights up around his parents, his siblings, his grandson and all of his nieces and nephews. And all of the love that he gives wherever he goes is received back in tenfold.

A few years ago, at a college party, I was talking to a guy about our backgrounds and this specific person asked me about my dad. It's a little embarrassing and yes, I did have alcohol in my system, but as I began to describe my father, I also began to cry. There isn't a single day that passes, no matter how annoying he is being in an attempt to be funny, no matter how much I've disappointed him, that I don't feel blessed when I wake up in the morning to be my father's daughter.

 

My dad is goofy. He's an awkward dancer, a terrible listener, a Judge Judy appreciator, the changer of the channel when you're really into a TV show. He can be pretty bad at correctly matching his clothing, he listens to talk radio more often than normal, and he always teases you if you don't put a $1 bill in his birthday cards. He's the torturer of our cat, the Guns N' Roses enthusiast and the man who met my mom while flushing his foot down a toilet at a party. He pretends to know lyrics to songs when he doesn't, he always buys unique TastyKakes that no one will end up eating, and he tucks his t-shirts into his mesh shorts before he works out.

But he's the first one to purchase concert tickets just to make his kids smile, he's the 2002 Father of the Year at Merion Mercy Academy, and the former president of the Home and School Board at Holy Cross School. He's the president of the Board of Trustees at Delaware County Community College, he organizes the golf outing for the Inglis Foundation every year, he is the first one to stop if he sees a THON canner on the street. He can cook the best pasta around, fix just about anything that has been broken and stay patient under the most difficult circumstances. He's the best public speaker I know and can make someone laugh so hard that they cry. He makes little sacrifices for the people he loves every single day and makes us all better just by simply being who he is.

This past fall, after successfully being offered an internship with the Philadelphia Flyers, my dad was driving me home. Feeling like the whole world was directly in front of me, I couldn't stop smiling or babbling. I asked my dad that day what he had wanted to be when he grew up. His answer was simple, and it caught me by surprise.

"A good father."

Well, Daddy, today and every day you deserve to know that you succeeded. You aren't just a good one; you're the best.